Not long after Bruno's self-imposed night watch we found ourselves
settled on our own estate, ready to carry out our plans for the future.
Briefly they were as follows. We had intended to make an orange-grove,
and while it was coming to maturity, we expected to raise early
vegetables to ship to northern markets. We brought with us only money
enough to make our place and live for a year: by that time we had fully
expected to have returns from vegetable shipments which would tide us
over till another crop. We had plenty of faith and courage, and were
troubled by no doubts as to the feasibility of our plans. Nor need we
have been, if only our land had contained the proper elements for
vegetable growing. It was good enough orange land, but it would be a
long time before we could depend on oranges for an income.
All this time we had been learning many things, taking care, as we began
to understand the situation, to go to practical doers for advice
instead of to visionary talkers.
There began to be serious consultations in our little home circle. The
year was drawing to a close, and our whole crop of vegetables would not
have filled a two-quart measure. We had gone on with our planting, even
after we felt it to be hopeless, because we did not dare to stop and
listen to our fears. It is not strange that we felt depressed and
disappointed. We could see that our plans could easily have been carried
out, had we only known just what sort of land to select. The whole State
was before us to choose from, but we had been misled through the
romances of a dreamer of dreams. All we had to show for our money, time,
and labor was a small house surrounded by trees so young that they were
at least five years from yielding us an income, and there was no more
money for experiments.
For a while we felt rather bitter towards our misleading adviser, but I
know now that we were wrong to feel so. A man can give only what he has.
"Out of the fulness of the heart the mouth speaketh." A dreamer of
dreams has only visions to offer to his followers, surely landing them
either in the briers of difficulty or the mires of discouragement.
One day Julius returned from the nearest large town, where he had been
for supplies, with an unusually thoughtful countenance. As soon as his
purchases were unloaded and the horse had been attended to, he came in
and, drawing a chair beside my work-table, opened the conversation with
these memorable words:
"Judith, how would you like to go up to Lemonville to live?"
"What makes you ask?" questioned I. "It depends altogether on the
circumstances how I'd like to live there."
"Well, Hawkes bantered me to-day to come up and keep his books for him,
and I have been considering it all the way home. It looks like a way
out, and I'll declare I don't see any other!"
"Go back to office work!" I exclaimed; "I thought you were done with
that sort of thing!"
"I thought so, too; but after a year of this sort of thing, it begins to
look quite different."
We sat up late, discussing this plan in all its bearings. Bruno seemed
to know that it was a crisis in our affairs, and sat on end facing us,
wrinkling his brows and looking from one to the other as each spoke. We
finally decided that Julius was to go back to town in a day or two, and
investigate further.
When Julius returned from Lemonville three days later, he brought us the
news that he had promised to give the position a trial, and that he had
engaged temporary quarters for us in a new house near the office.
Moreover, we were to move up there the following week, as Mr. Hawkes was
impatient for his help.
While we felt relieved at this decision, there was still something very
sad about the breaking up. We had builded so many hopes into our
pine-woods home, which had seemed to us to be guarded by a "standing
army" of giants carrying silver banners, especially imposing on
moonlight nights when the wind kept the banners of moss swaying under
the immense pine-trees.
We had seen it in imagination blossoming as the rose, a quiet little
nest, far from the madding crowd. And now to abandon it at the beginning
and go back to village life,--it was leaving poetry for the flattest of
prose.
The first step towards breaking up was to dispose of our fowls. This was
soon arranged, and when the cart came to carry them off, Bruno watched
the loading of them with the keenest interest, turning his head
sideways, with alert ears, and catching his lip between his side-teeth
when a hen squawked, as was his way when nervous. At last they were all
in the coop. The driver mounted to his seat, and started off. Bruno
trotted along after him, evidently not understanding that they were no
longer our chickens. He thought it was the beginning of the move he had
heard us discuss. He followed along for perhaps a quarter of a mile. All
at once he stopped and looked back; he saw us standing and looking after
him. It was a dilemma. He looked after the receding wagon, then back at
us, then at the wagon again. Then he turned and galloped back, stomach
to earth, and bounded up to us, yelping and panting, while we explained
that they were not our chickens any more; they were sold, and had gone
away to live in another home.
The poultry disposed of, we began hurriedly to make ready for our own
departure. It took a whole long day to pack our books, but we soon
stowed our other things, and inside of the agreed time we were
transferred and settled in the three rooms Julius had engaged.
There was a sitting-room below, which we used also as a dining-room,
with a small kitchen behind it. Over the sitting-room we had a large
chamber. The front windows of this room gave on the sloping roof which
covered a lower porch. This seemed to meet Bruno's views; he at once
sprang through one of the windows, and took possession of it as a
lounging-place--airy and cool.
Again and again friends we had made in our sylvan retreat, who came up
to town to visit us, said,--
"I found where you lived by seeing your dog on the porch-roof."
The house stood on rising ground and could be seen from almost any part
of the village; so we found Bruno quite useful as a door-plate in a town
where there were as yet no street names nor numbers.
We do not like living in the homes of other people, so as soon as
possible we made arrangements for two town lots, and put up a little
cottage.